Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police Part 60

He tripped and stumbled almost to the ground. Before he could recover himself Little Thunder, swift as a wildcat, leaped upon his back with his ever-ready knife in his upraised hand, but before he could strike, Cameron had turned himself and throwing the Indian off had struggled to his feet.

"Hold there!" cried Raven with a terrible oath, flinging himself upon the struggling pair.

A moment or two the Stonies hesitated, then they too seized Cameron and between them all they bore him fighting to the ground.

"Keep back! Keep back!" cried Raven in a terrible voice to Little Thunder, who, knife in hand, was dancing round, seeking an opportunity to strike. "Will you lie still, or shall I knock your head in?" said Raven to Cameron through his clenched teeth, with one hand on his throat and the other poising a revolver over his head. Cameron gave up the struggle.

"Speak and quick!" cried Raven, his face working with pa.s.sion, his voice thick and husky, his breath coming in quick gasps from the fury that possessed him.

"All right," said Cameron. "Let me up. You have beaten me this time."

Raven sprang to his feet.

"Let him up!" he said. "Now, then, Cameron, give me your word you won't try to escape."

"No, I will not! I'll see you hanged first," said Cameron.

Raven deliberately drew his pistol and said slowly:

"I have saved your life twice already, but the time is past for any more trifling. Now you've got to take it."

At this Little Thunder spoke a word, pointing toward the camp of the Stonies. Raven hesitated, then with an oath he strode toward Cameron and thrusting his pistol in his face said in tones of cold and concentrated rage:

"Listen to me, you fool! Your life is hanging by a hair trigger that goes off with a feather touch. I give you one more chance. Move hand or foot and the bullet in this gun will pa.s.s neatly through your eye. So help me G.o.d Almighty!"

He spoke to Little Thunder, still keeping Cameron covered with his gun.

The Indian slipped quietly behind Cameron and swiftly threw a line over his shoulders and, drawing it tight, bound his arms to his side. Again and again he repeated this operation till Cameron stood swathed in the coils of the rope like a mummy, inwardly raging, not so much at his captor, but at himself and his stupid bungling of his break for liberty.

His helpless and absurd appearance seemed to restore Raven's good humour.

"Now, then," he said, turning to the Stonies and resuming his careless air, "we will finish our little business. Sit down, Mr. Cameron," he continued, with a pleasant smile. "It may be less dignified, but it is much more comfortable."

Once more he took out his flask and pa.s.sed it round, forgetting to take it back from his Indian visitors, who continued to drink from it in turn.

"Listen," he said. "I give you all you see here for your furs and a pony to pack them. That is my last word. Quick, yes or no? Tell them no more trifling, Little Thunder. The moon is high. We start in ten minutes."

There was no further haggling. The Indians seemed to recognise that the time for that was past. After a brief consultation they grunted their acceptance and proceeded to pack up their goods, but with no good will.

More vividly than any in the company they realised the immensity of the fraud that was being perpetrated upon them. They were being robbed of their whole winter's kill and that of some of their friends as well, but they were helpless in the grip of their mad pa.s.sion for the trader's fire-water. Disgusted with themselves and filled with black rage against the man who had so pitilessly stripped them bare of the profits of a year's toil and privation, how gladly would they have put their knives into his back, but they knew his sort by only too bitter experience and they knew that at his hands they need expect no pity.

"Here," cried Raven, observing their black looks. "A present for my brothers." He handed them each a roll of tobacco. "And a present for their squaws," adding a scarlet blanket apiece to their pack.

Without a word of thanks they took the gifts and, loading their stuff upon their remaining pony, disappeared down the trail.

"Now, Little Thunder, let's get out of this, for once their old man finds out he will be hot foot on our trail."

With furious haste they fell to their packing. Cameron stood aghast at the amazing swiftness and dexterity with which the packs were roped and loaded. When all was complete the trader turned to Cameron in gay good humour.

"Now, Mr. Cameron, will you go pa.s.senger or freight?" Cameron made no reply. "In other words, shall we pack you on your pony or will you ride like a gentleman, giving me your word not to attempt to escape? Time presses, so answer quick! Give me twenty-four hours. Give me your word for twenty-four hours, after which you can go when you like."

"I agree," said Cameron shortly.

"Cut him loose, Little Thunder." Little Thunder hesitated. "Quick, you fool! Cut him loose. I know a gentleman when I see him. He is tied tighter than with ropes."

"It is a great pity," he continued, addressing Cameron in a pleasant conversational tone as they rode down the trail together, "that you should have made an a.s.s of yourself for those brutes. Bah! What odds?

Old Macdougall or some one else would get their stuff sooner or later.

Why not I? Come, cheer up. You are jolly well out of it, for, G.o.d knows, you may live to look death in the face many a time, but never while you live will you be so near touching the old sport as you were a few minutes ago. Why I have interfered to save you these three times blessed if I know! Many a man's bones have been picked by the coyotes in these hills for a fraction of the provocation you have given me, not to speak of Little Thunder, who is properly thirsting for your blood. But take advice from me," here he leaned over towards Cameron and touched him on the shoulder, while his voice took a sterner tone, "don't venture on any further liberties with him."

Suddenly Cameron's rage blazed forth.

"Now perhaps you will listen to me," he said in a voice thrilling with pa.s.sion. "First of all, keep your hands off me. As for your comrade and partner in crime, I fear him no more than I would a dog and like a dog I shall treat him if he dares to attack me again. As for you, you are a coward and a cad. You have me at a disadvantage. But put down your guns and fight me on equal terms, and I will make you beg for your life!"

There was a gleam of amused admiration in Raven's eyes.

"By Jove! It would be a pretty fight, I do believe, and one I should greatly enjoy. At present, however, time is pressing and therefore that pleasure we must postpone. Meantime I promise you that when it comes it will be on equal terms."

"I ask no more," said Cameron.

There was no further conversation, for Raven appeared intent on putting as large a s.p.a.ce as possible between himself and the camp of the Stonies. The discovery of the fraud he knew would be inevitable and he knew, too, that George Macdougall was not the man to allow his flock to be fleeced with impunity.

So before the grey light of morning began to steal over the mountaintops Raven, with his bunch of ponies and his loot, was many miles forward on his journey. But the endurance even of bronchos and cayuses has its limit, and their desperate condition from hunger and fatigue rendered food and rest imperative.

The sun was fully up when Raven ordered a halt, and in a sunny valley, deep with gra.s.s, unsaddling the wearied animals, he turned them loose to feed and rest. Apparently careless of danger and highly contented with their night's achievement, he and his Indian partner abandoned themselves to sleep. Cameron, too, though his indignation and chagrin prevented sleep for a time, was finally forced to yield to the genial influences of the warm sun and the languid airs of the spring day, and, firmly resolving to keep awake, he fell into dreamless slumber.

The sun was riding high noon when he was awakened by a hand upon his arm. It was Raven.

"Hus.h.!.+" he said. "Not a word. Mount and quick!"

Looking about Cameron observed that the pack horses were ready loaded and Raven standing by his broncho ready to mount. Little Thunder was nowhere to be seen.

"What's up?" said Cameron.

For answer Raven pointed up the long sloping trail down which they had come. There three hors.e.m.e.n could be seen riding hard, but still distant more than half a mile.

"Saw them three miles away, luckily enough," said Raven.

"Where's Little Thunder?" enquired Cameron.

"Oh, rounding up the bunch," answered Raven carelessly, waving his hand toward the valley. "Those men are coming some," he added, swinging into his saddle.

As he spoke a rifle shot shattered the stillness of the valley. The first of the riders threw up his hands, clutched wildly at the vacant air and pitched headlong out of the saddle. "Good G.o.d! What's that?"

gasped Cameron. The other two wheeled in their course. Before they could turn a second shot rang out and another of the riders fell upon his horse's neck, clung there for a moment, then gently slid to the ground.

The third, throwing himself over the side of his pony, rode back for dear life.

A third and a fourth shot were heard, but the fleeing rider escaped unhurt.

"What does that mean?" again asked Cameron, weak and sick with horror.

"Mount!" yelled Raven with a terrible oath and flouris.h.i.+ng a revolver in his hand. "Mount quick!" His face was pale, his eyes burned with a fierce glare, while his voice rang with the blast of a bugle.

"Lead those pack horses down that trail!" he yelled, thrusting the line into Cameron's hand. "Quick, I tell you!"